


Wrong Place, Right Time

by Flynne



Series: Garviel Shepard [3]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Prequel, Tenth Street Reds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 10:48:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14747402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flynne/pseuds/Flynne
Summary: Before Garviel was a Spectre, before he was a marine, before he was a Shepard, he was someone else; until he made a choice that changed everything.





	Wrong Place, Right Time

Tarik heard about the police raid on the Tenth Street Reds and the Fangs less than two hours after it happened. When the news hit the Wolves’ main headquarters, Big H immediately declared a lockdown. The gang boss’ word was law, so it was a full three days later, when Big H finally lifted the lockdown, that Tarik heard that Garviel Jackson had been thrown out of the Reds, marked for death by the Fangs, and had disappeared.

Citywide curfew made it risky to roam the streets after 2 AM, but Tarik went out anyway. Face hidden beneath the hood of his sweatshirt, he slid between shadowy corners with practiced ease, making his way through the ill-lit streets. He moved carefully, watching for signs of a tail, but saw no one. Both the Reds and the Wolves had refuges and safehouses, but Tarik skirted all of them, knowing Garv would have to avoid them. His steps carried him to the very edge of Wolf territory, heading to the place where he and Garv had agreed to meet if there were ever an emergency. Anxiety plucked at him and hurried him along, because if his friend wasn’t there, Tarik had no idea where he’d begin looking.

His steps quickened as the crumbling and boarded-up apartment building came into view. The rust-eaten fire escape groaned and shook under his weight as he hauled himself up, but he kept going until he reached the third floor. He pushed aside the loose plywood over the window and squeezed through the narrow opening.

“Garvi?” His voice, pitched low, didn’t travel far, muffled by layers of dust over rotting wood. But it went far enough, because almost immediately there was a shuffling sound in the far corner of the room, and a familiar lanky silhouette appeared from behind a pile of crates.  

Tarik crossed the room in three strides to drag his friend into a crushing hug. Garv stiffened in surprise, but his hesitation was fleeting and he leaned in almost immediately, letting his head fall against his friend’s shoulder. Tarik allowed himself a sigh of relief before asking, “You okay?”

Garv nodded against his sweatshirt. “Yeah.”

Tarik let him go then, taking a step back and trying his best to look Garv over as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. “Dude, what happened? People are saying Zeke cut you loose.”

“People are right,” Garv said flatly.

Tarik shook his head in disbelief. “We heard there was a bust that turned ugly, and then the next thing I hear, you’re out, and the Fangs and half the Reds want you dead. What the hell did you  _do?_ ”

Garv returned to his spot behind the crates, sitting cross-legged against the wall and slouching forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I saw the guys in one of the packing houses cutting red sand with a synthetic amphetamine powder,” he said once Tarik joined him. “They were talking about how it’d boost the sand’s stim effects.”

Tarik held up a hand to stop him. “Wait,  _your_ guys were the ones putting that hyped-up sand on the street?”

“Apparently,” Garv replied dully. “Zeke’s always talking about how we’ve gotta be careful with connections, how you’ve gotta be careful with the sand because you can’t sell it if buyers are dead. So I didn’t think he knew about it. Turns out I was wrong about that - he was the one who came up with the idea - but I didn’t know that then.” He shrugged. “I had to make the drop, though, and I didn’t have time to check in with him. So when I met the distributor, I warned him.”

Tarik snorted. “Geez, Garvi, what were you trying to do? Be the  _nice_ drug dealer on the block?”

Instead of responding to the teasing, though, Garv flinched. “Don’t make fun of me, Tarik. You’ve seen the dusters when they’ve had the hyped stuff. It’s not pretty.”

Tarik sobered, a pang of guilt making him frown. He hadn’t meant to kick his friend while he was down. “You’re right,” he said, all traces of humor gone. “I’m sorry.”

Garv shrugged, letting it go. “Anyway, I was supposed to arrange a meet with Chase - that’s what the distributor calls himself, don’t think it’s his real name - while I was making the drop. Zeke had asked Russ and some of his guys to come, too…the Fangs are smaller than we are, but they’re by the docks, so Zeke wanted to see if we could use some of Russ’ connections to branch out there.” His mouth twisted. “But Chase was wearing a wire.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” Garv let his head fall back against the wall. “Anyway, you know we got raided. Cops made it past the sentries - I don’t know how - and they come busting in. Russ and his guys started shooting, and then the cops opened up. Everything went to hell.” His voice rasped painfully and he paused for a moment before he could continue. “Five of our guys got taken out. I don’t know how many of Russ’ crew.”

_“Shit,”_  Tarik said again. He scrubbed a hand across his face. “I’m sorry.” The Wolves had been on fairly good terms with the Reds for several years, and odds were good that some of the casualties were guys he’d known.  He wanted to ask who’d been killed, but thought the better of it. Garv would tell him when he felt ready…or he’d hear it once word started getting around. There were more immediate concerns for now, and he gave his friend a worried look. “Did you get made?”

“I don’t think so.” Garv gestured vaguely to the faded red kerchief around his neck, just visible beneath his hoodie. “Zeke wants us to keep our faces covered whenever we make drops. And we never use names. Everyone scattered when the shooting started. But Zeke found out we’d been set up, and went after Chase. Chase told him I’d warned him about the hyped sand, and that’s why the cops showed up at the meet. Chase didn’t know who I was, but Zeke knew I was the one who made the drop. He beat up Chase, then came after me.”

Tarik looked grim. Zeke had at least three inches and forty pounds on Garv, and he had a violent temper. “Did he hurt you?” he asked, keeping his voice calm even as his hands curled into fists at his sides.

Garv’s jaw firmed, the bleak expression in his eyes sharpening with anger. “He tried,” he said stonily. “I didn’t let him.” His resolve didn’t last, though, and a moment later his expression faded into weary sorrow once again. “Anyway. I can’t go back. So I came here.”

“It’ll be okay,” Tarik told him. “You can stay with me.”

Garv stared at him. “What? Are you serious? No way Big H would allow that. Not when Zeke’s shut me out.”

“You think I’d really care what H has to say?”

That coaxed a reluctant half-smile onto Garv’s face. “No. But I’m not gonna let you get in trouble because of me.” His humor faded. “I’ve already gotten enough people hurt.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Tarik objected.

“I dunno. If I hadn’t told Chase about the hyped sand, the raid wouldn’t have happened.”

“You don’t know that.”

Garv shook his head. “I should have just kept my mouth shut,” he said dejectedly.

Tarik sighed, picturing the ravaged corpses the hyped sand had been leaving behind ever since the altered drug had made its appearance earlier that year. “You don’t mean that.”

“…No. I don’t,” came the quiet reply.

Tarik sat beside his friend for several moments, listening to the wail of a siren a few blocks away until the echoes faded into silence. “Well,” he said at last, “I know what we’re gonna do. We already had a plan. We’ll just make our move early. We’re gonna go to the recruiting office tomorrow and get ourselves out of this city.”

Garv lifted his head, brow furrowing in confusion. “I can’t do that. I’m not eighteen yet. I mean, I think  _you_ should go - if you can get out of here, you should do it - but they won’t take me.”

Tarik shrugged flippantly. “So we just tell ‘em you’re eighteen.”

“I can’t lie about my age,” Garv said, shaking his head. “What if they find out? I don’t wanna go to jail.”

“They’re not gonna throw you in jail for something like that.”

“You don’t know that. They might. Anyway, even if they don’t, they’ll never let me enlist later if they find out I lied.”

“So we go anyway,” Tarik said firmly. “It’s just six months early. They can’t put up a big stink about only six months. Trust me, it’ll be okay.” Garv still looked uncertain, but he stopped arguing. His shoulders slumped, and he nodded once in acquiescence. The stubborn set of Tarik’s face eased, and his voice was uncharacteristically gentle as he asked, “How long has it been since you got anything to eat?”

“This morning,” Garv answered quietly. “I’m okay.”

One side of Tarik’s mouth tugged down in a frown. It had been almost twenty-four hours since  _“this morning”_ , but it wasn’t that long in the grand scheme of things. He didn’t like it, but Garv would be okay until the next day. “And how long has it been since you slept?” he asked, still in the same tone.

Garv gave a strained huff of laughter. “A little longer.”

“That’s what I thought.” Tarik lifted his arm to drape it around Garv’s shoulders. “Get some sleep. I’ll keep an eye out for trouble.”

Garv snorted. “You  _are_ trouble,” he said dryly, but he let Tarik pull him in. He settled against his friend’s shoulder and, despite the grief and the strain of the past few days, fell asleep within moments.

Tarik shifted to let Garv rest against him more comfortably, only now letting a worried frown crease his forehead. Despite his outward certainty, he really wasn’t sure what would happen when he and Garviel showed up at the Alliance military recruitment center in the morning. Even though he was barely eighteen himself, a scant eight months older than his friend - even though they weren’t in the same gang - he’d taken Garviel under his wing almost immediately after meeting him as a skinny thirteen-year-old.

It didn’t matter that Garv had joined up with the Reds. Somehow, in spite of everything, he was still a good kid. And he was the closest thing to family that Tarik had ever had. He wasn’t going to sit by and let his brother get killed. He was going to get Garv safely off the street.

He kept a protective arm around Garv as he slept, watching and listening to the night noises as the empty building kept up its slow gathering of dust.

\----------------------—–

Garv kept his head high and his shoulders straight as he followed Tarik through the sunlit streets the next morning. It wasn’t easy. They didn’t see any obvious signs of trouble, but Garv knew that with their crowd, they wouldn’t see trouble coming until it was too late. The back of his neck itched, and he had to force himself not to peer down every alleyway as they passed by, hands curled into tense fists inside the pockets of his borrowed sweatshirt. The garment was too big for him, hanging loosely on his thin frame, but at least it was clean. Tarik had brought him one of his own shirts early that morning, when he’d returned from a quick run to a 24 hour fast food place to get breakfast.

The office building that housed the navy recruitment center loomed in front of him, sunlight gleaming off the windows and turning the front of the building into a shining blank expanse that hurt his eyes to look at.

Tarik grinned at him. “Ready?”

Garv returned his friend’s smile in spite of the uneasy thudding of his heart. “Guess I have to be, don’t I?”  He took a deep breath and followed Tarik inside.

A handful of other prospective recruits were milling about in the entryway, but the lobby’s wide expanse made the room seem echoing and empty. One of the bored-looking guards inside the door gestured toward the far side of the room. “Fill out your forms there, then get in line,” he said, speaking in a flat tone that told Garv he was already tired of giving instructions but resigned to a long day of repeating himself.

Garv and Tarik’s shabby appearance was a marked contrast to the others who had come to sign up, and even though they’d left all signs of gang colors or symbols in the abandoned apartment building, people still stared at them with expressions that ran the gamut from curiosity to disdain. Garv was used to that sort of scrutiny, though, and he easily ignored it, crossing over to stand beside Tarik at one of the tall benches in the far corner of the room. He picked up a form and one of the chained-down pens on the tabletop and started to write. His nervousness wasn’t helped by the fact that he had to leave a lot of spaces blank.  When he came to the line for date of birth, he only hesitated for a brief moment before giving a resigned sigh and writing  _04/11/2154_.

He waited until Tarik was done, and they approached the pair of clerks seated at the far end of the room. They stood side by side in front of the desk while the the clerks read through the forms. Tarik’s clerk frowned at the multitude of blank spaces, but began initialing the form without comment. Garv’s clerk reached for his pen, but aborted the movement and gave him a skeptical look. “You’re still seventeen.”

Garv looked back at him steadily. “I know.”

“Well, you can’t enlist until you’re eighteen.”

“I’ll be eighteen in six months,” Garv said, keeping his voice level in spite of the sinking feeling in his stomach.

“So come back in six months,” the clerk replied, speaking in a tone of exaggerated explanation.

“I’d rather enlist now.”

The clerk frowned impatiently. “Look, kid, you’ll be lucky if you’re allowed to enlist at all, let alone trying to sign up early. You’ve left half this form blank - no address, no employment information, and I don’t see any international ID number or record of where you went to high school. Get out of here, get a job, and try your luck next year.”

“He can’t,” Tarik cut in, unwilling to keep his mouth shut any longer. “He’s with me. We’re a package deal. You don’t let him sign up, I don’t sign up either.” Garv shot Tarik a warning look, not wanting his friend to jeopardize his own chances of enlisting by making a scene, but before he could say anything, the clerk’s derisive snort cut him off.

“The Alliance navy isn’t so desperate for recruits that it’s going to break regulations and recruit underage kids just so we can let some thug enlist,” the clerk said, pushing Garv’s form back across the desk. “Come back in six months. If you’re lucky, I won’t remember your face and you might have a chance.”

“Tarik isn’t a thug,” Garv said with a scowl - apparently their attempt to shed their outward signs of gang association hadn’t worked, or the clerk was making assumptions - but his words were lost as Tarik clenched his fists and spoke over him.

“He won’t make it six months!”

Garv put a restraining hand on his friend’s forearm.  “I don’t have anywhere else to go,” he told the clerk, speaking calmly in spite of the cold shiver than ran through him at Tarik’s outburst. “Listen - I don’t have to enlist right now if it’s not allowed. But what about getting a job on a base? You have civilians who work there, right?”

“Not civilians like  _you_ ,” the clerk said with a sneer. “It’s not the navy’s job to bail out dumb kids who get in over their heads.”

“That’s not what I - ”

“Look, quit wasting my time!” the clerk snapped, finally losing the last shreds of his limited patience. “ _Your_ bad decisions aren’t  _my_ problem! Now get out of here before I have security throw you out.”

Before Garv could respond, a deep voice broke in from the far side of the room. “What’s the trouble here?”

Both clerks’ eyes went wide and they jumped to their feet, snapping to startled attention. “Captain Anderson, sir!” Garv’s clerk said. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t see you there.” Garv looked over to see a dark skinned man in a crisp blue and gold uniform standing in the open double-doors on the side of the lobby. His stomach twisted uneasily as he wondered how much the captain had overheard.

“At ease, Lawrence.” Anderson crossed over to the desk, giving Tarik and Garv a passing glance before turning to the clerks. “Now. What’s going on?”

“This… _recruit_ is underage, sir,” the clerk replied. Garv clenched his jaw at the scorn the clerk managed to work into the word, but he kept his expression carefully blank. “Neither one of them have filled out the complete form,” the clerk went on. “I was about to have security escort them out.”

Anderson reached out and took the pair of enlistment forms from the desk, giving them a quick once-over. “Thank you, Lawrence. I’ll handle this.” He looked at Garv and Tarik. “Gentlemen. Come with me, please.”  

Garv exchanged a startled glance with Tarik, but obeyed without a word, following the captain as he crossed the silent lobby and headed back through the doors from which he’d entered and down a hallway. He didn’t know if he should feel hopeful or worried. There weren’t many people in the hall, but everyone they passed was wearing a uniform, and the farther they went, the more Garv and Tarik stood out like scruffy sore thumbs among the sea of blue.

Anderson led the way to his office and ushered them in. He took a seat behind the desk, set the forms down in front of him, and leaned his elbows on the polished wood, steepling his hands together. “Let’s see. Jackson, is it?”

Garv straightened his shoulders, linking his hands behind his back. “Yes, sir.”

“Why do you want to enlist in the Alliance navy?”

Garv looked at Anderson carefully. He’d been expecting the captain to lecture him for being a nuisance, or at least grill him about why he was trying to sign up early…but that wasn’t what he’d asked. He could feel the tension radiating off of Tarik, just behind him, but he kept eye contact with the admiral and didn’t turn. “We’ve been wanting to enlist for a long time, sir.” Even though Garv guessed Anderson had been addressing him directly, he deliberately spoke to include Tarik in his answer. “There’s nothing for us here. The navy is the one chance we have to leave and actually make something of ourselves. And maybe make a difference and do something good. Tarik was waiting for me, ‘til I turned eighteen, and then we’d sign up together, but…I ran into some trouble and…now I don’t have anywhere else to go. So we thought we’d try. I wasn’t trying to cause a problem, sir.”

Anderson regarded him thoughtfully before asking, “What kind of trouble?”

“Gang-related trouble, sir.”

The admiral raised an eyebrow, but Garv noticed he didn’t look surprised. “Care to tell me what  _sort_ of ‘gang-related trouble’ you got into?”

Garv hesitated. As much as he wanted to see Zeke put in his place and stop the tainted red sand from hitting the streets, he knew that if he told the truth, there would likely be another raid. Five of his friends had died that week because he’d spoken out of turn. True, the Reds had changed over the years, and he knew they were becoming dangerous…but then there were friends he knew, like Nero and Luc, who weren’t bad kids, but who’d gotten stuck, same as he had. He had accidentally betrayed his friends once. He wasn’t going to do it again if he could help it. So he did his best to keep a respectful tone when he replied, “I can’t say, sir.”

“Hm.” Anderson leaned back in his chair. “I overheard most of your discussion with Lawrence. You say you don’t have anywhere else you can go?"

“That’s right, sir.”

“You can’t move on or find work elsewhere?”

“No, sir. I had a place to live and a job because my boss got them for me. I can’t go back to them, and he’ll make sure that I can’t find work anywhere else.”

Anderson nodded at Tarik. “Your friend seems to think your life will be in danger if you don’t enlist. Is he correct?”

“Yes, sir,” Garv answered quietly.

“You do realize that a military career is not going to be a safe occupation.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“And what about you, Tarik?” Anderson asked, looking past Garv’s shoulder to address him. “I think I heard you say that you and Garviel were a package deal. Want to tell me why that is?”

Tarik lifted his chin. “He’s my brother, sir.”

Anderson glanced down at the enlistment forms - both incompletely filled out, both with different last names - and looked back at the two teenagers standing in front of him. Tarik’s taller, more muscular frame dwarfed wiry Garviel, despite the younger boy’s not inconsiderable height; and their features were a study in opposites, Tarik’s dark hair and bronze skin contrasting with Garv’s fair coloring and freckles. “I see,” he said at last.

Garv stood in tense silence, heart thudding against his ribs. His hands, still clasped behind his back, felt numb from the tightness of his grip.

Finally, Anderson sighed, gathering up the forms and folding them neatly in half before he put them into his briefcase. “I’m going to hold on to these for the next six months,” he told them. “Until then, you can be hired on as staff at Jemison Base. I’m stationed there for now, and I happen to know they’ve got openings for maintenance crew.” He gave them a faint smile. “Come find me on April 11 and I’ll sign both forms together.”

Garv stared at him, not quite able to believe what he’d heard. “You…you’d do that?” he stammered, forgetting to say sir in his shock. “Why?”

“Because I believe you,” Anderson replied matter-of-factly. “There are a lot of blank spaces on these forms, but you don’t get to be a captain without being a decent judge of character.” The faint smile appeared again. “I’m sure when I find out what’s in these blank spaces, I won’t be disappointed.”

“I…th-thank you, sir,” Garv managed to say.

“All right. Now that we’ve got that taken care of…” Anderson stood, tugging on the hem of his uniform jacket to straighten it. “I was actually on the way back to Jemison when I overheard your conversation. The shuttle’s waiting. If you’re ready, we can leave now.”

“Right now?” Tarik asked in surprise.

“Yes. Unless there’s something you need to take care of here, first. I can delay the shuttle and give you an hour if you need it, but not much longer than that.”

“No, sir,” Tarik replied, speaking for both of them. “We’re ready.”

“Good. Come with me.” Anderson picked up his briefcase and headed for the door.

Tarik was already grinning, and when the captain passed into the hallway he surged forward and threw his arm around the back of Garv’s neck, hauling his friend into a headlock as he ruffled his hair with his free hand. “What’d I tell you, Garvi?” he exclaimed in a low voice. “I told you it’d be okay.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re always right,” Garv drawled sarcastically, voice muffled against Tarik’s sweatshirt. He wriggled against the confining grip, planting one hand against his friend’s side in an attempt to shove off while blindly reaching up with the other to try and swat Tarik’s hand away from his head.

“I know I said I could delay the shuttle, but I’m not sure the pilot will think a wrestling match is a good reason,” Anderson said dryly.

Startled by Anderson’s unexpected reappearance in the doorway, Tarik released Garv so quickly that he stumbled. His hand shot out and seized the hood of Garv’s sweatshirt, giving a quick tug to right him. “Sorry, sir,” he said, in spite of the unrepentant grin on his face. “We’re right behind you.”

Anderson turned to resume his trip to the shuttle once more, but not before Garv caught the subtle glint of amusement in his eyes. He tarried just long enough to punch Tarik in the shoulder, then hurried down the hall in Anderson’s wake.

The shuttle pilot gave the two teenagers a dubious look when they appeared on the platform, but didn’t ask any questions. Garv slid over next to the window, Tarik just behind, leaning close to look over his shoulder as the shuttle lifted into the clear morning sky. His future was no more certain that it had been just a few hours ago, but he had his brother with him…and now he had hope that things really could change for the better.

Something seemed to shake loose inside his chest as they rose above the smog from the sprawling metropolis below, and Garv took his first easy breath in months, turning his gaze to the beckoning horizon.


End file.
